


Wars May Be Fought with Weapons, but They Are Won by Women

by CassieXena



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Genderbending, Movie References, Origin Story, World War II, becoming Captain America
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-13 09:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieXena/pseuds/CassieXena
Summary: This is Captain America: The First Avenger if Steven Rogers were Stephanie Rogers. She's still a ball of righteous fury, best friends with Bucky, in love with Peggy, and ready to save the world. This story will be updated bi-weekly, and will eventually be a part of a series that goes through all the Cap movies. The fic rating may change as the story progresses for F/F scenes between Steph and Peggy.





	1. Chapter One: One Door Closes

**Author's Note:**

> American women are empowered women. It's 1944 for God's sake, there is no explanation for why everyone is determined to keep Steph Rogers out of the war effort.

“Please, if you just give me a chance, I swear--”

“If you think I’m gonna be the guy who sends a broad with a page of medical history to the same continent as a warzone, you’re outta your head.”

Stephanie Rogers huffed, willing down her irritation so it didn’t spark her asthma. It would only prove the enlistment officer’s point that she was too weak to go overseas. The entire thing was infuriating, seeing as women’s auxiliary units never even got close to battlefields. Steph knew that she could never be a soldier. She wasn’t delusional. But she had to be there. Working as an air controller or a mechanic or a damn secretary would make her a hell of a lot more part of the fight than anything she could do stateside.

The officer handed back her resume without ever opening it. Steph gave him a crisp thank you, sir, and did her fourth walk of shame out of an enlistment center.

* * *

Steph went to the theater to brood. She paid her 25 cents to see the latest cartoon, something with an elephant. Unfortunately, she didn’t actually get to see the film, because a man a couple rows ahead of her couldn’t pay two minutes of respect to the men risking their lives to protect him. He kept shouting through the newsreel. Steph sat up straight when the guy threw popcorn at the screen.

“Hey, you wanna show some respect?” Steph stage-whispered. The man didn’t even look at her.

“Get on with it!” He hollered, “Just start the cartoon!”

Steph raised her voice. “Hey! You wanna shut up?”

The man stood and looked back at her incredulously. Probably wasn’t used to anyone standing up to him. Steph started to glare, but then realized that he was very… tall. Menacing.

Time to go home.

She waited until the guy’s friends persuaded him to sit back down and slipped out of the cinema. She thought she had escaped until she heard the guy’s voice behind her.

“HEY! Where ya going?”

Steph didn’t turn back, she just quickened her pace down the street. Past the candy shop, past the tailors, turned the corner and right into an alley. Shit. Steph Rogers, who had lived in Brooklyn her whole life, had effectively cornered herself with a wrong turn.  
The guy from the theater was right behind her, and grabbed her by the arm when she paused. He wrenched her around and grinned at her.

“Hey there lady. You’re pretty dainty to be yellin’ at fellas in a movie.” He stepped more into her space, forcing her to take a couple steps back, where she couldn’t be seen from the street. Her back hit the wall and she knew she was well and truly trapped.

Steph yanked her arm out of his grip and made to move around him but the man just took hold of her other arm and pushed her back against the brick.

“Get lost,” she snarled, stepping down hard on his foot.

He swore and moved back, but before she’d taken two steps, he stuck his leg out and Steph tripped, sprawling on the dirt.

 _Get up get up get up._ Steph picked herself back up and tried to make a run for it, but the guy grabbed her again effortlessly and shoved her back.

The man laughed. “You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”

This time when he pushed her, her head hit a garbage bin and stars exploded over her eyes.

Steph got off the ground, woozy, and braced herself to make another fruitless run forward into a mass of muscle much stronger than she could ever be.

“I can do this all day,” she bluffed, head high.

The guy threw her to the ground again. All the air left her already struggling lungs.

“Hey, why don’t you pick on someone your own size.”

Relief flooded through Steph at the sound of the familiar slick Brooklyn drawl.

Steph caught her breath and picked herself off the ground as her best friend had a quick tussle with her attacker. She heard someone get socked and didn’t need to look up to know it wasn’t Bucky Barnes.

“Sometimes I think you look to get roughed up.” Bucky said bemusedly.

“I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky bent down to help her pick up the contents of Steph’s bag, which had strewn everywhere when she fell. He snatched up her resume.

“Really, Stevie? What’d you try to sign up for this time? … The WAC? I don’t even know what that is. Oh, so you have experience in mechanics now? And you’re not colourblind anymore?”

Steph ignored him until she finished gathering her things and realized Bucky was in his full uniform.

She straightened. “You get your orders?” Steph squashed the part of her that screamed that he was going to be an inch from death every day and she couldn’t help him in the slightest.

Bucky paused before answering, obviously knowing what she was thinking. “The 107th, Sergeant James Barnes,” Bucky said proudly. “Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.” Barely bitter at all at the end, stand-up guy that he was.

Of course he would be part of the 107th. He’s the best, and he deserved no less. Steph’s dad had been in the 107th.

“I should be going,” she said solemnly.

Bucky laughed. “C’mon, punk. It’s my last night! You gotta get cleaned up.” He tugged lightly on one of Steph’s wonky pin curls and dirt from the alley floor drifted from her hair.

Steph quickly ran her fingers through her hair, ridding it of dirt and reducing her curls to waves. “Why, where we going?”

Bucky grinned. “The future.”

* * *

 

That evening found Bucky and Steph looking presentable, Bucky out of his work clothes and Steph in something clean that didn’t swallow her too much. They walked from their apartments, (across the hall from each other, because Bucky’s ma would come back from the grave to scold him if he lived with a dame), to the Stark Expo. The yearly fair was a night of science fiction made real from millionaire genius Howard Stark, and Steph was glad Bucky got to see it before he went West. He loved that stuff.

“Hey, Stevie, you know that dame I was tellin’ you about?”

“Which one?” Steph said wryly, “I lose count.”

Bucky put on an outraged expression and shoved Steph so she stumbled and grinned. A woman passing glared so they quickly pretended to be mature adults.

“Anyway,” Bucky said, “I asked her to come with us tonight and she asked if she could bring her brother along, and I thought that since it’s my last night…”

“Jeez, Buck!” Steph said, exasperated. Bucky constantly set her up on dates, and she appreciated the thought. The problem was that he was yet to realize guys weren't lining up to date a mousy, sickly girl whose core moods were “righteously indignant” and “quietly respectful”. Not that there were many guys around anymore with the war going on.

“Just be nice.” Bucky smirked.

“Hey, Bucky!” Bucky’s girl, Connie, waved from her place by the ticket window. Next to her, a tall, blonde white guy also waved.

“What’d you tell him about me?” Steph hissed.

Bucky winked. “Only the good stuff.”

* * *

Connie’s brother’s name was Nicky, and he was polite, and reasonably good at hiding his disappointment that Steph was his date. He was a healthy, working man in his mid-twenties… who wasn’t overseas. Steph couldn’t get past it.

When there was a pause in Stark’s fantastical show, Steph tapped Nicky on the shoulder. He was standing awkwardly slightly in front of her and had to completely turn to listen.

“So, you in the Army?” Steph asked casually.

Nicky shrugged. “My number hasn’t come up yet.”

Steph’s eyes narrowed.

“Stevie,” Bucky said warningly, watching her.

Steph relaxed, acknowledging Bucky’s unspoken plea to not make a scene. She swallowed her retort that a lot of other men didn’t wait for their number to come up. She didn’t tell him that there were thousands of men out there who shouldn’t be, who have children or disabilities or are too young or too old. People who are standing in place of men like him. She didn’t tell him that she would kill to be in his place, to have a body that would let her serve her country. She wanted to, but she didn’t. It wasn’t her business.

So Steph stayed quiet, and everyone’s attention was eventually caught back by Howard Stark.

There were so many Nickys around the world right now. Not everyone wanted to be part of the fight. But Steph did. There was an enlistment center on the way into the Expo, a fancy one with a full lobby and recruitment setup.

She had to try, one more time before Bucky left her behind.

Steph slipped away before anyone could notice. She meant to go straight to the back office where women could sign up for their organizations, but she paused at the main entrance. In the lobby, posters and decorations invited every strong young man to become a hero. Steph watched a man step up to a mirror that placed a would-be soldier's face among a line of American troops. She stayed back. She could never be a soldier. Besides, the top of her head wouldn’t even reach the bottom of the mirror.

“Stevie!” Bucky's voice called out. He'd caught up to her. “C'mon, you're kinda missing the point of a double date. We're going dancing.”

“You go ahead, I'll catch up.” Steph said, entirely not planning to catch up before the end of the night so she could say goodbye to Bucky.

Bucky's jaw locked. “You really gonna do this again?”

“Maybe I'll get lucky this time,” Steph joked half-heartedly.

“That resume has tens kinds of lies on it.” Bucky said flatly. “They'll catch you. Worse, they'll actually take you.”

That stung. Even her best friend thought she wouldn't make it overseas.

“Look, I know you think I can't do this, but--” Steph started.

“This isn't a back alley, Steph, it's war.”

“I know it's a war!”

“Why are you so keen to fight? There's so many important jobs.”

“What do you want me to do, collect scrap metal? In my little red wag--”

“Yes,” Bucky said resolutely. “Why not?! You could--”

“I'm not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky.” Steve argued.

“I don't--”

“Bucky!” Steph looked him in the eye. “There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to sit back and watch. That’s what you don't understand. This isn't about me.”

“Right. 'Cause you got nothing to prove.”

That stopped Steph cold. She was saved from having to respond to the worst verbal gut-punch Bucky had ever hit her with by Connie finally catching up.

“Hey, Sarge!” Connie called out from the bottom of the building’s steps, “Are we going dancing?”

Bucky turned to Connie and put on his best lady-killer smile.

“Yes we are!” He called out. Then quieter to Steph, “Now I gotta find another dame for poor Nicky, thanks a lot.”

“Find him an enlistment center.”

Bucky snorted. “Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back.”

He started to back down the steps. Steph found it very hard to let him go. But she knew it was worse for him. He was the one going to fight Nazis, so she pasted on a smile for her best pal.

“How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky stopped. He ran back up the steps and hugged Steph tightly, shaking his head. “You're a punk.” He said.

 

“Jerk,” Steph answered into his shoulder. “Be careful.”

Bucky let her go and started to walk away again.

“Hey!” Steph yelled, “Don't win the war 'til I get there!”

Bucky laughed, though she was only half-joking. He gave her a salute, and then he was gone.

* * *

Peggy Carter was the SSR field agent for Project Rebirth. She had been assigned to supervise Dr. Erskine's project, and keep him safe. At the moment, she was scouting for possible volunteers for the first round trial of Erskine's serum. Lurking around enlistment centers to find someone desperate, young, and without family made her feel a little sleazy, but undercover work was always her specialty.

Peggy's skulking was interrupted by a loud argument between a tiny, frail woman and an Army sergeant.

“There are men laying down their lives. I got no right to sit back and watch.” The woman said fiercely.

Peggy was intrigued, because the philosophy was not unlike her own.

The sergeant and the woman seemed to reach an agreement, and they parted, but the woman said one last thing.

“Don't win the war 'til I get there!”

The woman left the lobby and after a moment of hesitation, Peggy followed. As she suspected, the woman went straight to the back office. Peggy followed again.

The office was small and stuffy, so it was easy to find the woman sitting in a metal-backed chair waiting for her turn to speak to the office manager, fingering a resume folder.

Split second decisions are not, usually, Peggy's most brilliant choices. But she had a feeling.

“I'll take that,” Peggy said crisply, holding out her hand.

The woman looked up, confused, but handed over the folder obediently. “I'm sorry, are you a representative from the...?”

“Strategic Scientific Reserve,” Peggy said, holding out her hand. “Agent Peggy Carter.”

The woman straightened. “Stephanie Rogers.” She shook her hand. Rogers had a surprisingly firm grip.

“Well, Rogers,” Peggy said, “I couldn't help but overhear.”

Rogers flushed. “Sorry if we were being loud--”

“No matter. You want to go overseas?”

“Yes,” Rogers answered promptly.

“I can offer you a chance.”

“I'll take it.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow and suppressed a laugh. “The SSR is working with the Army to increase science-technology to match enemy forces.”

Rogers nodded. “Germany is 50 years ahead of the US in weapons tech, I've read.”

“That's right.” Peggy thought of Howard. “But we have the best people on the job. We have a project in New York right now, but at the conclusion of that experiment I will go back to working on special operations in Europe. I could refer your resume to my superior to see if you are fit to come with me.”

In actuality, Peggy will be referring to no one, except Human Resources to tell them they have another paycheck to write. It’s evident that Rogers wouldn’t pass the most basic wellness tests, but Peggy had a feeling. Colonel Phillips had taken a chance on her and now she would pass on the favour, if Rogers passed her background check and was actually as resilient as she seemed.

Peggy looked at the folder in her hand and realised that it was rather dirty. There was a nearly perfect boot-print in the top corner. Peggy raised her eyebrow again.

Rogers blushed furiously and fumbled an explanation.

Agent Carter didn’t regret her decision for a moment.


	2. Introducing Agent Steph Rogers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New job, new me. Steph would keep her head down, do her job, and get to Europe. Just stay under the radar, Rogers.

Steph reported to the SSR offices the following Monday for an interview. She was nervous about being late so she arrived early, but Agent Carter was already waiting. The agent exuded confidence and professionalism, from her shined heels to her perfectly painted lips. Steph was a bit intimidated, to say the least.

“Agent Carter,” She said, trying to smother her nervousness, “Thank you for waiting.”

“Barely waited at all,” Carter said briskly. “Right this way, Ms. Rogers.”

Carter led her to a nondescript office, vacant of personal belongings but not suspiciously empty.

“Four documented applications to various women’s units, and the desk manager at the Brooklyn center said he’s seen you in many more times than that,” Carter said, right to business.

Steph winced. “I’m not sure if that’s me…”

“Rejected every time due to health issues.” Carter continued like she hadn't spoken.

“I’m tougher than I look.” Steph said lightly.

Carter cracked her first smile, and it felt like a victory. “That’s why you’re here. You’ve been on your own since you were seventeen?”

Steph was a little apprehensive that the SSR was able to get so much information on her, but at least it meant the offer was serious. “I relied on a friend’s family, but yes, my mother passed when I was seventeen.”

“You were enrolled in arts college, why did you stop attending?”

“Pearl Harbour.” Steph said quietly. “Everything was about the war, after that.”

Carter nodded. “Why do you want to go overseas, Rogers?”

“I want to help the war effort directly.”

“Are you expecting comfortable conditions?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Are you expecting to be coddled for your poor health?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Are you expecting to do more than take orders and fetch things?”

Steph didn’t pause. She swallowed her pride a long time ago. “No ma’am.”

“Welcome to the SSR, Rogers. Training starts tomorrow.”

* * *

Agent Carter gave Steph a different address for her training, which was strange. It was also strange when the address led her to a telephone company.

Steph dawdled outside the building, wondering if she somehow had the address wrong, but there was no way. Carter had written it down neatly and clearly on the back of a card.

“Well, are you going to come in?” It was Carter, poking her head out of the door.

Steph scrambled to follow her.

Inside, Carter spoke briefly with an woman at the end of the long line of operators. With a thudding sound like an elevator opening, the brick wall in front of them split and revealed a hallway lined with doors.

Steph gaped.

Carter started walking down the hall, then paused. “Coming?”

It became evident to Steph that a lot of this job would be attempting to keep up with Agent Carter.

The hallway eventually led to a large floor, where desks overflowing with files sat empty. A few women were milling around filing cabinets against the walls. Steph saw a desk with a chrome nameplate reading AGENT M. CARTER.

Carter introduced Steph to a Miss Helen Hopkins, who would be training her, then excused herself to go to a meeting.

Miss Hopkins explained that the SSR headquarters was undercover at the phone company to maintain military secrecy.

“But even super spies need ladies to fetch coffee,” Miss Hopkins giggled, “So that's what me and the girls are for.”

Steph suppressed a grimace.

Miss Hopkins showed Steph the filing system, the percolator and tea kettle, the telegram, and the smaller room for the secretaries and assistants’ desks.

It all seemed rather dull, but Carter promised her a ticket to Europe and it was a job.

After Miss Hopkins decreed Steph oriented, she told Steph that Carter had left her a file. The file in question was on Carter’s desk, labeled “Project Rebirth: Low Clearance Version”.

Blocks of text were blacked out, but Steph got the jist of it. They were going to create supersoldiers. A scientist employed by the SSR was going to use some sort of serum to make regular US troops faster, smarter, stronger, and harder to kill. Apparently it was vitally important for them to choose the right man, even for the preliminary trials of the serum. Carter was overseeing the entire project.

Steph finished reading through the file just as the agents start to file in from their meeting. She heard a man scoff ostentatiously.

“Another broad? First Carter’s an ‘agent’ and now she’s got a secretary?”

Steph kept her head down. She tried to discreetly escape to her own desk in the other room, but before she could get far she heard Carter’s response.

Carter said, “Hendrickson, go home.”

The other agent spluttered, “Excuse me?”

“If you can’t be professional, go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Steph ducked her face in the file she held to mask her snickering.

“Rogers,” Carter said, “If you’ll come with me, please.”

Steph schooled her expression and followed her boss.

“Sean O’Dwyer, former Great War intelligence agent, Irish immigrant,” Carter said, handing Steph another file, “Quick-witted and hard-hearted. We need him. Unfortunately, the surge in anti-immigration nativists have made him a little prickly, and rather unwilling to help. He’s agreed to come in today, but really only to tell us kindly to piss off. I want you to observe, see if anyone can convince him.”

Carter and Steph found a small crowd of agents whispering outside the boardroom where O’Dwyer waited.

“My turn already, boys?” Carter raised an eyebrow.

A stocky agent rolled his eyes. “Good goddamn luck, Carter. We’ve been trying since ‘39 to get O’Dwyer back in the game. He’s not gonna budge.”

“I see,” Carter said, as if that was new information. “Rogers, would you mind brewing some tea before joining me?”

Steph hastened to make the tea, managing magnificently to avoid eye contact with everyone she passed on her way back to the boardroom.

When Steph returned with the tea, she could feel the tension in the air. The room was set up like an interrogation. Agent Carter, looking pinched and forcedly calm, sat next to the bulky agent from before, who was frankly sneering. Far across the table, O’Dwyer looked mildly frustrated. No one spoke when Steph entered and she had no idea how long they had been sitting in silence.

The not-interrogation was entirely hopeless.

Steph bypassed Carter and the other agent and put a tea cup in front of O’Dwyer.

“Excuse me, sir,” Steph said quietly as she poured his tea, “You don't happen to be related to Shelley O’Dwyer, from Brooklyn?”

O’Dwyer looked suspicious.

“We went to school together.” Steph explained quickly.

The old man smiled. “She’s my grand-niece.” His accent wasn’t as noticeable as Steph expected, but he was a spy, after all.

Steph grinned as she poured his tea. “Only so many O’Dwyers. She’s real smart.”

He puffed his chest out a little. “She always has been.”

“She dropped out with me after Pearl Harbour.” Steph mentioned gently.

O’Dwyer’s smile dropped. “Yes. Her brother got the draft.”

“I’m sorry,” Steph said. “I hope we can end the war and bring him home.”

The man tipped his head in acknowledgement. There was a pause when Steph thought about how to continue without seeming entirely transparent.

“I miss Shelley’s art.” It wasn’t a lie. Steph had never really paid much attention to Shelley O’Dwyer’s art, but she knew it was good.

He smiled again, but it was weak. “Her mother told her all about our home. It’s a beautiful place, she says it inspires her.”

Steph remembered Shelley’s work with oil paints. “I’ve seen her paint, and you can tell the landscapes are something special. She was top of the class, really,” she said earnestly.

O’Dwyer gave Steph a long look, searching her face. Then he sighed. “Let’s see what we can do to get her back there, then.”

Behind Steph, she could practically hear the agents’ jaws drop.

* * *

Half an hour later, Carter dropped O’Dwyer’s file in Steph’s lap. A new stamp emblazoned the top that read REOPENED.

Steph grinned. Carter looked appropriately impressed.

* * *

A few days later, Steph was sitting at her desk filing and reading when Carter stopped by to tell her they were going upstate, to a base camp.

“The candidates for Rebirth?” Steph guessed.

“Exactly,” Carter answered. “At the end of the week, we’ll choose the first test subject.”

When the company car came to take them to the camp, Carter sat in the back with Steph instead of in the passenger seat as Steph expected. Steph looked out the window. It was a bit awkward, and Steph’s intimidating boss made no attempt for conversation.

The car passed the alley by the cinema and Steph found herself blurting, “I got roughed up in that alley.”

Carter glanced at her strangely.

Two streets down, they passed another alley where a man cornered her after she called the police on him for hollering after girls leaving the dance hall.

“And that one,” Steph muttered. Another block, a guy called her Bucky’s rent girl and Steph initiated her own fight. “And behind that diner.”

Carter glanced again. “Did you have something against running away?”

Steph shook her head ruefully. “You start running, they’ll never let you stop. You stand up, you push back. Can’t say no forever, right?”

“I know a little of what that’s like,” Carter said. “Having every door shut in your face.”

“I guess we’re alike,” Steph said, “I mean, two dames-- women, I mean. Not to undermine you, I mean, you’re an agent--my boss, I guess I just…” Steph let herself trail off pitifully. Carter just made her tongue-tied.

Carter finally turned fully to look at her curiously. “Do you have many friends, Rogers?”

“Mostly just the one, ma’am,” Steph admitted, “A guy.”

“The Army Sergeant? Your guy?”

“Uh, no,” Steph said a little awkwardly, “I mean, yes, that was him, but we’re not together. We were childhood friends. Don’t have many boyfriends. Guys aren’t exactly lining up to dance with a girl they might step on.” Steph’s not sure why she added that last bit. She didn’t have to qualify her lack of gentlemen callers. Carter didn’t care, and Steph was painfully aware of how well looking at her explained why she didn’t have many boyfriends.

“You must have danced,” Carter said, lip quirking up slightly.

“Well, I’ve always been so sick. And in the past few years…” The war seemed to hang in the air between them, “It didn’t seem to matter so much. I figured I’d wait.”  
“For what?”

Steph answered honestly, “The right partner.”

Carter smiled.

* * *

“You remember all the details of the file, Rogers?” Carter asked as she picked her way across the dusty basic training camp.

“Yes ma’am,” Steph answered. She couldn’t keep herself from staring around the camp and cataloging every detail in her mind. Tents littered the camp, all various degrees of dirt-covered. Men were everywhere, working and training and talking with ramrod posture.

“Good. I want you to stay back and observe the first group of possible participants.”

Carter called a group of men to order and introduced herself. One guy immediately mouthed off to her and Steph almost felt bad for him. He had no idea what he was getting into.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Carter asked smoothly.

“Gilmore Hodge, your majesty.”

“Step forward, Hodge,” Carter ordered. “Put your right foot forward.”

“We gonna wrestle?” Hodge taunted, “‘Cause I got a few moves I know you’ll like.”

Carter socked him in the jaw so hard he hit the ground.

Steph grinned.

Next a Colonel introduced himself and explained the process to the men and said they would select the first Super Soldier at the end of the week. Steph hoped that a week was long enough for them to see who was right for the responsibility.

* * *

 

A few days later, Steph was at the base camp again. Carter trained the recruits almost daily alongside a drill sergeant to give them SSR-specific tests.

“Rogers,” Carter said suddenly, as the men did pushups, “Go get Colonel Phillips, I need to speak with him. Quickly, please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steph took off to find him. After a minute, though, she had to pause because she had moved too fast and started coughing. There was a lot of dirt and smoke around a base camp. She ducked behind a med tent so she wouldn’t attract attention while she caught her breath, but only for a moment.

When she found Phillips, his eyes widened at the look of her.

“You alright?” He asked, gruffly concerned.

Steph nearly collapsed on the floor. “Yes, sir! I’m fine.”

“You Carter’s assistant?”

“Yes, sir.” Steph got ahold of herself and stood straight.

Phillips flicked his eyes up Steph and she could tell that he was taking in that she was 4’10’’ and maybe 90 pounds. And wheezing.

Steph held her head high under the scrutiny.

After a beat, Phillips sighed. “Let’s go, then. Doctor, come with us.”

A small man with glasses, presumably head scientist Dr. Erskine, walked with them. It seemed like Steph had interrupted an argument between the two men, but they continued as if she weren’t there once they were on their way.

Phillips started in. “You can’t tell me these men don’t have what we need.”

“I am looking for aspects beyond the physical.” Erskine responded crisply. Steph noted that a surprising German accent was thick on his _the._

The Colonel shook his head. “Throw me a bone. Hodge passed every test we gave him. He’s big, he’s fast, he obeys orders. He’s a soldier!”

“He is a bully,” Erskine responded. Steph’s respect for him skyrocketed.

Phillips and Erskine settled leaning against a truck a few meters from the recruits while Carter called them to attention. Steph went to stand by her boss and was roughly equidistant between Carter and Phillips when she heard a shout that made her blood run cold.

“Grenade!”

Steph saw the grenade roll into the recruits and her vision tunnelled. Vaguely her brain registered Carter sprinting towards the weapon and the men diving away, but the forefront of her focus was what she had to do.  
Steph was closer, she beat Carter there. She hit the dirt hard and curled around the bomb.  
“Get away! Get back!” Steph yelled at Carter. She waved her arm frantically but Carter was frozen. “Stay back!”

Steph braced herself.

Nothing happened.

Long after a grenade would have exploded, Steph opened her eyes. People were tentatively leaving their hiding spaces and muttering indistinctly. Carter was gaping at her openly.

She sat up as realization dawned on her. Obviously a grenade tossed in the middle of the candidates for an elite project with their administrators standing by would be some sort of a trial.

“Is this a test?”

Either way, it damn well wasn’t for her. She might as well sign her resignation now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Compliments and criticism are appreciated. Next chapter will be up two weeks from today. Can you feel the StephPeggy coming??

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Tell me your thoughts in the comments, I appreciate criticism and compliments. The next chapter will be out two weeks from today. Right now the chapters I have writtten are split into about this length, around 2000 words, about a typical novel chapter, but I could break each one into two if that would be better. What do you all think? Was this too long, or comfortable?  
> talk to me on tumblr @cassiexena


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